Roads Not Taken
by Lady Eleanor Boleyn
Summary: Our favourite characters get there in the end, but there are plenty of moments when they could have done things differently. Well, what if they had? A Collection of missing and/or changed moments from our favourite family's lives.
1. To Save Downton

"He wrote that letter assuming I was Lavinia's one true Love!"

"You were!" Mary exclaimed, hurrying after Matthew as he strode away from her angrily. "You were!"

"Well, then can't you see why I can't take that money? I'd be taking it under false pretences. I'd be doing nothing more than stealing!"

"You can! Oh, Matthew, for God's sake, listen to me!"

Mary would have liked nothing more than to tear her bun out and run a hand angrily through her hair, but the future Countess of Grantham didn't do that. Ever. Instead, she reached out for Matthew.

"Can you accept that you were Lavinia's one true love?"

"I suppose so."

"Well then, Lavinia would have wanted nothing more than to see you happy. You've said yourself more than once that you'll only be happy if I'm happy. And I won't be happy if we have to leave Downton. Which logically means you won't be happy either. Lavinia wouldn't want that. Can't you just take the money and give it all to Papa, if you don't want it? In her name, if not in yours. Please!"

Mary was begging him now, tears starting in her eyes. Matthew had his back to her, but something caught in her voice and tugged at his heartstrings. He turned slowly to face her.

"How can you know what Lavinia would want? You were never exactly the best of friends, Mary."

"And why not? Because I was jealous! Because I loved you as much as she did and I wanted you to be mine. But I know what I'd want for you if it was the other way around. I'd want you to be happy. I'd want you to save Downton. Your home, Matthew. Your home!"

"Downton always comes first with you, doesn't it?"

"Is that so surprising? I'm a Crawley!" Mary snapped, before regretting her harshness. "Matthew, I'm sorry. It's just…I grew up here. I've never loved anything like I love this place. And it's yours now, too. Ours. I just want to share it with you. Share it with you and our children. I want to make you happy, but I can only do that if I'm happy, and I'm never happier than when I'm at Downton. Lavinia knew that. She understood. Please. She's making it possible for us to have the happiness that she couldn't. Didn't she say herself that it was for the best, really, when she died? If you get the money then, this is her last gift to you, Matthew; her last gift to you because she loved you. You've just got to stop being so stubborn and accept it."

"Why can I never say no to you, you vixen?" Matthew's voice was soft. Mary gasped.

"You'll do it?"

"Of course."

Mary had to stifle an undignified squeal of joy. She was about to spring into Matthew's arms when he held up a hand.

"On one condition."

"What?"

"That we don't steal Edith's thunder. We'll tell everyone after the wedding."

"Everyone except Papa. We have to tell Papa. I can't bear to see him go around under the weight of his worry."

"All right. Your father, then. But no one else. Do I have your word, Mary?"

"Oh, now that I can live with! That I can live with! Thank you, darling! Thank you!"

Unable to control herself, Mary leapt into her husband's arms, crashing her lips against his. All of a sudden, the bright spring day seemed a thousand times brighter.


	2. Marrying Edith

The Organ struck up and Antony rose to his feet. He turned his head to watch Edith floating down the aisle on Robert's arm. God, she was so young, so beautiful, so innocent…He couldn't ask her to throw her life away on him. He couldn't!

Before he knew what was happening, she was beside him. She chanced a sideways glance at him from beneath her veil.

"Good afternoon," she whispered.

"Good afternoon, my sweet one," he replied, as she arranged herself beside him and Robert stepped back to take his place in the family pew.

"Dearly beloved…" Oh God. Mr Travis was beginning. He had to speak now or never speak at all. He opened his mouth….

And shut it again. The steely look in Robert's eye, when he chanced a swift half-glance over his shoulder, coupled with Edith's slavishly hopeful one as she slid her hand into his, saw to that. It was too late. He couldn't jilt a daughter of Downton at the altar. He couldn't risk having the might of the Crawleys down on him.

Most of all though, he couldn't do it to Edith. Despite himself, he truly cared for the young woman at his side. She might be more than twenty years his junior, but she'd made him feel alive in ways he hadn't since he'd lost the use of his arm. And she loved him. He could see it in her eyes. She'd be heartbroken if he jilted her now. No. He owed it to Robert, to his sense of honour and to Edith herself to go through with this.

"Sir Antony?" Travis's voice broke into his reverie.

"Sorry…I was…Never mind. Carry on."

"Very good, Sir. Repeat after me…"

"I, Anthony, take thee, Edith, to my lawfully wedded wife…" The words stumbled, almost choked him. But they were out and there was nothing more to be done. Edith repeated her vows in a voice that, like his, was quivering, but unlike his, hers was quivering with joy.

And then it was over. Travis was proclaiming them man and wife and Edith was waiting expectantly for him to kiss her. Reluctantly, he bent over and lifted her veil, fumbling the job – at least he could pass that off as a result of only having one arm – leaning down to press his lips tentatively against hers.

She responded eagerly and his heart thudded with finality.

There was no going back now.


	3. Saving Sybil

_AN: I own nothing that you recognise, and I stole the first paragraph or so from another fic called The First Year by gothamgirl28, who I think took it from the series...Sorry but I couldn't resist..._

**Saving Sybil**

"I've known Lady Sybil her entire life. She does not have thick ankles. Besides the swollen ankles, her blood pressure is high and the protein in her urine is elevated. Not to mention the baby appears to be small for this stage of pregnancy. All of which are classic signs of toxemia."

"You are needlessly jumping to conclusions. Performing a caesarian section is not necessary and highly dangerous. As I said before, Lady Sybil is perfectly fine and her pregnancy is progressing to my satisfaction."

Cora could not keep silent any longer. "I'm sorry Sir Philip, but I trust Dr. Clarkson. He's known Sybil her entire life and knows her medical history. I believe Dr. Clarkson's course of action is best for Sybil and the baby."

"I disagree, Cora," replied Robert. "Sir Philip knows what he is doing. He has delivered numerous babies before. I know you're worried about Sybil, but she will be fine."

Cora swung round on her husband. "Robert, I'm not just worried! Even my first labour was quicker than this. And you saw yourself how confused she was. This is our daughter we're talking about. Our baby girl. If she is even in the slightest danger, then we need to do something! Now!"

"I forbid –"

"You will not forbid me anything! Not when it comes to Sybil and the child! Mary, Tom, come with me. We're going to the village!"

Cora tore off towards her youngest daughter's bedroom and Tom followed her. Mary paused, just long enough to say to her father, "I know this isn't what you wanted, Papa, but honestly, I would trust Mama. You're not a woman, after all. Nor are you, Sir Phillip," and then raced after her mother and brother in law.

Less than a minute later, the three of them reappeared, Sybil cradled in Tom's arms. Mary swung round to her younger sister, "Edith, get the car. Now."

"Now, wait a minute…" Robert was cut off by a torrent of pure fury from Cora.

"This is our daughter, Robert. Our grandchild. Stop me now and I swear I will never view you as my husband again. Edith, do as your sister says, darling."

"Yes, Mama." Edith needed no second urging. She flew down the stairs out into the yard, Mary, Tom, Sybil and Cora close behind her. Doctor Clarkson went with them, leaving a stunned Robert and Sir Phillip behind him.

* * *

There was nothing Tom could do except wait. Wait and listen to the frantic movement that was going on behind the curtain…the movement that every now and again was punctuated by Sybil's heartrending muffled murmurs as the pain got too great for her to bear even under the influence of the ether.

He started towards the curtains at the sound of just one more than he could bear, but Matthew, who'd followed them in the car, sprang up.

"You'd better not do that, old chap. Let Mother and Clarkson do what they have to do. They know what they're doing."

"I just feel so helpless. I just want to be there for her."

"Well, believe me, you can't. You'd only get in the way. She knows you're here and that's enough. She'll be fine."

"Mary's in there."

"Yes, well, have you ever heard of anyone being able to stop Mary doing anything?" Matthew commented wryly, before laying a hand on Tom's back, "Come on. I've got a bottle of strong whiskey in the car. I begged it off Carson before I joined up. Come and have some to keep your courage up. God knows you'll need it."

The two men were about to head for the door when the movement behind the curtain suddenly stopped. Tom wrenched himself away from Matthew and was halfway across the room when Mary appeared from the other side.

She looked pale and drawn, but the smile she offered Tom was blazing with delighted relief and pride.

"She's fine. Or at least, she'll be fine, when she wakes up. They're all fine."

"All?" Matthew looked puzzled and Mary glanced at Tom. Realising he looked just as puzzled, she sighed, "Didn't you realise she was expecting twins?"

"Twins?"

"Twins," Mary repeated, "A boy and a girl. Congratulations, Tom."

"Thank you – Lady…"

"Mary, Please. I am your sister in law, after all. There's no need for titles between us."

"Mary then. Thank you," Turning to Cora, whom he had completely ignored in his worry for Sybil, Tom managed a smile that was warmer than any other he had yet favoured her with, " Thank you, too, Milady. Thank you both."

"You're more than welcome, Tom. You're part of the family and we Crawleys stick together….no matter His Lordship may say," Cora's voice was tight as she finished her sentence and Mary hastily interposed, "Never mind that now. Papa will come around when he sees that Sybil and the babies are fine. Now come and meet the children."

Tom ducked past her without waiting another instant. Cora followed, picking up the smaller of the babies as he scooped up the larger.

"That's your son, Tom," Isobel murmured, "And that's your granddaughter, Cora."

"Hello little one," Tom heard Cora coo behind him, "Hello, darling," but he was far too focussed on the bundle in his arms to pay her much attention. His son gurgled and stretched slightly before opening his dark blue eyes sleepily. His son.

Tom was mesmerised by his every movement. "Hello, laddie," he whispered, scarcely daring to speak at all for fear of startling the child, "I'm Tom, your da.

"They're beautiful, Tom. Both of them," Mary sighed, her voice softer than he had ever heard it, "Have you thought what you'd like them to be called?"

"Sybil would never forgive me if our daughter wasn't called Mary," he replied, with a quick glance over his shoulder at the bed, where Sybil still lay prone, wrapped beneath the warmth of thick woollen blankets, "She always wanted to name her after you. So it's Mary Cora Branson."

"Tom…"

"No. you'll not change my mind, Milady. You stood by me and Sybil tonight when your husband did not. For that, I'll name my daughter for you."

"Tom…" Cora tried to say something, but couldn't find the words. In the end, she just said, "Thank you."

"And what about your son?" Mary asked, reaching out for her little niece as she crossed the room to stand at her mother's shoulder rather than Tom's.

"Well, we'd thought Kieran for my brother, since we're naming Mary for you, but I don't think so. Not after everything all of you have done to keep Sybil alive. And Dr Clarkson most of all. Do you know…what's Doctor Clarkson's first name?"

"Mine? Richard, Mr Branson," Doctor Clarkson replied, breaking in to the conversation as he looked up from monitoring Sybil's temperature.

"Richard. Richard Kieran Branson. Our little Dickon. Dickon and Mary. Dickon and Mary Branson. Yes. I like it."

"So do I. And so would Sybil, were she awake to tell you so," Mary reassured him. Tom pulled himself away from gazing at his son just long enough to offer her a relieved smile.

"Thank you Lady…Mary. That means a lot."

"Glad to help," Mary smiled, placing her little namesake back in her mother's arms with a final feather light kiss on the baby's forehead, "Right. I'd better let Matthew take me home before he falls asleep. I'll tell Papa, Granny and Edith that they can come and visit in the morning. You'll stay with them, Mama?"

"Yes. I want to be here when Sybil wakes."

"Of course. I'll see you back at Downton, then."

Mary slipped away, an indulgent half-smile coming to her lips as she realised that Matthew had dozed off in the few minutes that she had spent introducing Tom to the babies. She shook him awake.

"Come on, Sleepyhead. You've got to drive me home. We've got some people to put out of their misery."

"He's met the babies, then?"

"Yes and he's named one for me and one for Dr Clarkson."

"That'll please Cousin Robert."

"I don't see that it's any of his business. Without Dr Clarkson, they wouldn't be here," Mary retorted and Matthew chuckled, sliding his hand up the length of her arm to calm her.

"Peace, darling, peace. Did you say he'd named his daughter for you?"

"Yes, and for Mama. Mary Cora Branson."

"Drat! That was going to be my name for our daughter!" Matthew cursed under his breath and Mary laughed.

"Well, Tom got there first, so it looks like you'll have to stretch your brain a little further than that."

"Are you saying I haven't got a brain?"

"Not that you don't have one, just that you don't always use it."

Laughing and jostling each other, the pair of them hurried out to the car, preparing to take the good news home.


	4. The Future Countess

"Now that you're back from America, I take it that there will soon be a public announcement of your engagement to Mary?"

"I hate to disappoint you, Cousin Robert, but that won't be happening," Patrick Crawley answered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he tried – and failed – to outstare his older cousin.

"Won't be…Patrick, what nonsense is this? There has been an unspoken understanding…"

"That I would marry one of your daughters and allow her to become Mistress of her childhood home, correct? I don't believe the agreement ever stipulated that my bride had to be Mary."

"Well no, not in so many words, but she is the eldest! She is my heiress! She's been brought up as the future Countess of Grantham!"

"If she was really meant to be Grantham, she'd have been born Edward Robert and not Mary Josephine!" Patrick snapped, his temper getting the better of him in the face of Cousin Robert's intransigence, "For Christ's Sake, I've promised I'll marry one of your girls and so I will. Does it really matter that my choice has fallen upon Edith and not Mary?"

"Yes! Mary is the eldest…you have an understanding!"

"You and Father had an understanding, you mean! Cousin Robert, surely you're not blind? Surely you can see that Mary and I could never make each other happy?"

"What does being happy have to do with the whole thing? Of course I can understand that it's desirable, but surely duty comes first?"

"Oh don't be so bloody old-fashioned!" Patrick swore, "I'll do my duty, as you call it, and marry one of your girls. But Mary and I could never make each other happy and I respect her enough not to put her through that humiliation. No. I will marry Edith and Mary can marry whoever catches her eye. Surely she's still an attractive prospect? She has her share of Cora's money, after all and she's an Earl's daughter. That's no small thing to be, whether or not Downton is part of her jointure."

"Well, I suppose not, but that's not the point…"

"No, you're right, it isn't. The point is that Mary and I could never make each other happy and we know it. I've spoken to her. She's released me from our understanding and given me permission to go after Edith."

"She gave you…That's not like Mary at all."

"Nevertheless, she has done it. She loves Downton enough to put the happiness of its people above her own pride. Which you don't seem to be able to do."

Robert spluttered, but Patrick was beyond listening. He drew himself up.

"I will marry Edith, with or without or your blessing, Cousin Robert, but one way or another, she, not Mary, will be Countess of Grantham. I suggest you get used to the idea. Good day."

With that, he turned on his heel, leaving a dumbstruck Earl of Grantham behind him.


	5. Viscount Downton

"Sarah O'Brien, this is not who you are," O'Brien felt the words slip from between her lips at exactly the same moment as the Countess called, "O'Brien?"

Out of the corner of her eye, O'Brien saw her mistress move to get out of the bath and rushed forward, "Wait, Milady!"

"O'Brien, what is it?" Lady Grantham looked puzzled at her maidservant's uncharacteristic shout of warning, but sank back into the tub nonetheless. O'Brien bent and gathered up the soap, offering it up to her mistress with a sheepish look, "One of us must have dropped this, Milady. I didn't want you falling on it. We can't have you hurting yourself now, can we? Not in your condition."

"Oh, you are a treasure, O'Brien. I simply don't know what I'd do without you," Lady Grantham sighed.

"You don't have to worry about that, Milady. I'll never leave you, I promise. Now, let's get you dry and comfortable, and then you'd better rest before dinner. Lord Grantham would never forgive me if I let you overtire yourself."

Offering her mistress first a towel, then a dressing gown and a shoulder to lean on as she crossed the room, as ungainly in this, her latest, unexpected pregnancy, as she had been in her first, all those years ago, O'Brien quashed the stab of jealousy that rose in her breast. If this was the son that Lord Grantham desired, then he deserved it. After all he had been through, he deserved to have the trouble of the entail resolved at least.

* * *

"Congratulations, Lord Grantham. You have a healthy son," Dr Clarkson watched the Earl's face as he delivered the news and had the satisfaction of seeing his mouth drop open and an invisible weight drop from the man's shoulders.

"A son. A son! I have a son!" He repeated the words over and over, as though he were scarcely able to believe what he was saying.

At last, he turned to his daughters, exhaling slowly, "I have a son. You have a brother. At last. At last! You have a brother!"

Lady Mary sprang up and embraced her father firmly, "Congratulations, Papa."

"Yes, congratulations. But you must go and see Mama," Lady Sybil hugged her father in her turn, then pushed him lightly in the direction of the birthing room, "Go. They'll be waiting for you."

Still looking as though he could not fathom what had just happened, the Earl of Grantham disappeared into the room where his wife sat waiting with their son and heir in her arms.

* * *

"Cora, I…" Robert's voice trailed off as he stood on the threshold of the room, desperate to bring words to bear on the perfection of his joy. Shaking her head, Cora shifted their little boy – their little boy! – into the crook of her arm and reached out her free hand to him.

"Don't even try, Robert. Just come here and hold him."

Robert didn't need telling twice. Crossing the room in two bounding strides, he took his son – his son! – into his arms and cradled him as though he were made of glass.

"He's beautiful, Papa. He looks just like you, though he's got Mama's eyes," Sybil breathed. Robert jumped as she spoke. He hadn't even realised his daughters had followed him into the room.

"Careful, Sybil," Edith admonished, "You mustn't shock Papa. What if he drops our brother?"

"I won't, Edith, don't worry. Believe it or not, I had plenty of practice with you three," Robert chuckled, amused at the startled look in the younger girls' eyes at his words. Mary took advantage of her sisters' surprise to reach out for her brother.

"What are you going to name him, Papa?"

Robert exchanged a look with Cora, and the latter smiled softly, "We haven't thought of any names at all. We think you should name him, Mary darling."

"Me?"

"Yes. Since the lad's going to take your place at Downton, we think it's only right that he should owe his name to you, at least."

"Well…" Mary broke off, unable to think of a thing to say. Sensing she was slightly overwhelmed by the responsibility her father had just laid at her door, Cora put a gentle hand on her wrist before the silence could stretch on forever, "Don't think too much, my darling. It never works, believe me. Just use your instinct. Look down at that boy and tell me what you think his name should be."

Exhaling slowly, Mary did as her mother told her. As she did so, her little brother's eyes flickered open and she found herself gazing into two pools of the deepest hazel brown.

Almost at once, the name came to her.

"Nicholas," she whispered. "Nicholas Matthew Robert Crawley."

"Nicholas! Oh yes! It's the name of the Saint who protects children. Given how unexpected he is, I think it's a wonderful name!" Sybil exclaimed, earning herself a puzzled look from Edith. Where on Earth had Sybil learnt about Saints?

"Fräulein Kelder told me," she blustered, flushing beetroot red. Luckily for her, her father was too engrossed in his new son to notice her slip-up.

"Nicholas," he breathed, taking his son back into his arms, "Nicholas Matthew Robert Crawley, Viscount Downton. Welcome to the world, little Nicholas."

As if he could already recognise his name, Nicholas kicked and gurgled slightly. The five adults in the room exchanged glances. In that instant, their happiness was absolutely perfect.


End file.
